


revelator

by koedeza



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koedeza/pseuds/koedeza
Summary: There probably isn't much that you don't know.





	revelator

**Author's Note:**

> teehee i've truly lost any semblance of talent i might have once had

There probably isn’t much that you don’t know. **  
**

Two brothers? Yes.

Untamed land? Yes.

Monsters? Yes.

Blood? Of fucking course.

Like everyone else, you’re bound to know the skeleton of the story, the bleached bones of time that shape what you’re told. You just won’t know things in their entirety, you won’t know places, or people, or how it all went down. That’s fine, there’s no need to worry.

I’ll tell you.

1.

They were Americans by blood. People sometimes claimed they came from England or France or Spain, sometimes even said they’d come up from Mexico. That’s not true. These two brothers were molded with the clay of the land, created right then and there, were birthed with the country itself. All they knew was America, and they weren’t interested in much else.

One of them was brains, the other brawn. One was warm, the other cold. One was night, the other day. That is also not true. There were no distinctions to be made. Right when their character got so separate and you could finally tell which was which, they merged back together again. You’d have to know who they were, who they really were, to be able to tell them apart.

The older was crude as they come. He was sharp and violent, sometimes unnecessarily so, but he got the job done. He was restless in a land where there were no limits, and always craving something else to kill, something else to exact revenge upon. He often felt wronged, mostly by life itself, but he also knew how to milk it and live it like it every day was his last.

The younger one was calculating. He liked people, liked talking to them and helping them and being with them. He liked to feel as human as he could, even when he had a job to do and things to hunt. He longed for something more, and it was visible in the way his eyes always looked up to the sky because wherever you go in America, the sky is always the same. 

Neither of them ever got what they wished for.

 

2. 

Efficiency could have been their middle name.

They rode until they found something killable, and then they took care of it quietly. Never was there loud battles or any sort of attention drawn to their work. Everything was done in black hours of dawn, in the quite literal dead silence. 

They used machetes and axes and colts and pistols and sawed-offs and bare fists and steel-toed boots and one they even got creative and ran a monster over with a wagon.

They got the job done.

In saloons, the younger one could be seen praying while the older one was off getting a drink or a girl, probably both. People thought it was because he was religious and was trying to save his soul from falling into the pits of hell after all the killing he did. Wrong. The man prayed for whoever was their next target. 

 

  
3.

This is what a typical conversation between them probably have sounded like. 

“You got the whiskey?”

“You drink too much whiskey.”

“Yeah, and you read too many books. Give me the fucking whiskey.” 

“I’m sorry. May I please have the whiskey?” 

“Why can’t we ever stop? This is all we do, day in day out. Hunting hasn’t given us shit.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. A black dog killed dozens over on the Trail. You wanna go check that out?” 

“Yeah.”

 

4.

They were unhappy. They fought a good deal. 

One would storm off, the other would loosen a punch. 

Sometimes from blind rage, one would kill another, and ladies and gentlemen that is fact.

They always came back though.

 

5.

Little known fact, they created a lot more problems than they solved them.

It’s easy to get cocky, especially when you’re the best of the best, and that’s exactly what happened. What started off as a natural instinct to roam and stop the monsters, became like an addiction. The brothers could taste the tang, and despite the bittersweet taste it always left in their mouth, they were never satiated. 

They’d look so hard for trouble, they’d find things even they couldn’t take care of. When it came time to making the sacrifice play, things were morbidly comical. Broken bones, bloody knuckles, and sometimes even death chased after these brothers, but they chased it right back. 

No one ever knows who won.

 

6.

They cared about each other. 

The older one never strayed too far, and the younger one never really stood still, all because they were willing to do anything to make the other happy. Even if it meant they had to die, over and over and over. 

Death was welcome at that point because it never stopped coming, and they thought it would be better to embrace what you can’t escape from. 

 

7.

I thought I had a lot more to say, but I don’t. 

I guess no matter how I paint it, you do know the story.

And you know it doesn’t end well. 


End file.
